


Winter Wonderland

by ussgallifrey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Snow, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21668689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ussgallifrey/pseuds/ussgallifrey
Summary: Bucky awakens to the aftermath of a blizzard and several eager children begging to go outside.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	Winter Wonderland

The heavy blanket of sleep is broken by the shimmering light dancing off the windowpane. Dreams pull away with a hazy tide, reality tugs him closer. The air is chilled, and he has half the mind to tuck his nose down into the pillow - seeking out a bit of warmth in the otherwise frigid room. 

Next to him, under the sheets and blankets and crocheted blanket, you doze on. Not even slightly bothered by the drop in temperature. Though perhaps that was just him, with a body more susceptible to the sharp aches and pains of a cold day.

Your chest rises and falls with a steady beat, constant and encompassing of something bright in his morning-haggard mind. Bucky watches you sleep, traces the curve of your body, turned away from him like you had been when you had first fallen asleep. Curled into his side, one hand on your hip and the other above your head.

Only now, he wants to draw you back in. Savor that easy comfort of his wife's warmth pressed into him. Wake you with kisses and praise and everything he can give. But you deserve more, so much more. And sleep is a precious commodity these days, one he will gladly give above all else if given the chance.

Lazy thoughts intrude his mind as he dips his hand down, just cupping the curve of your protruding bump. That gorgeous swell under the delicate fabric of your nightgown. It makes his head go all fuzzy at the thought of another little Barnes. Right there under his palm, gently kicking away.

He has half a mind to tell the kid off, to let you sleep a while longer. But there's a sudden clatter in the room next door. Bucky can hear an excited squeal followed by a series of hushes. Rubbing the swell of your belly one last time, he finally extracts himself from the covers and is hit with an instant blast of cold. The housecoat at the end of the bed will do little to fend off the temperature, but at least it's something.

Pausing outside of the door, Bucky listens to the muffled voices inside. When he opens it rather suddenly, he finds George and Ruthie trying to corral Richie down from his perch on the bookcase. 

"_Daddy_," his daughter is quick to lament. "We tried to get him down, honest. We weren't trying to wake Mama."

It takes three strides to cross the room and pull the second youngest down, depositing him in a fit of giggles onto his bed.

"Come on, you're gonna wake Mom!" George hushes harshly with a finger drawn to his lips. 

That perks the four-year-old right up, unfortunately, "I wanna see Mama."

Bucky pulls him back by the collar of his pajamas before he can make it a second step across the floor. Hands under the arms and Richie is brought to his lap. Staring down at identical blue eyes, he ruffles the mop of hair on his son's head.

"What were you doing up there anyway, bud?"

His eyes widen with pure wonder, "Snowing outside! "

He clambers up on his feet, straining to look out the window. Bucky cranes his neck and ends up standing just to look out. Past the iced-over pane, he can just make out the opposite row of Brownstones. But between them is a thick blanket of snow. Beautiful and glittering in the morning light. Not a soul in sight, or car for that matter.

In fact, he peers down the street, catching the glimmer of one buried under a substantial amount of snow. The news had called for a storm, but he hadn't been expecting _this_ much.

"Dad," George beckons with a hopeful tone, holding Mary on his hip. "Can we go?"

The kids seem to surround him in a moment of pouted lips and pleading eyes. And all he sees is your face reflected back, and he's never been able to say no to you - it certainly wouldn't change with your kids.

After a relenting _yes_, they scatter off in search of clothes and boots. A bathroom trip for Ruth and a diaper change for Mary. He slips back into the sanctuary of the bedroom to find you, thankfully, undisturbed. Trousers on and suspenders snapped in place. Bucky snatches the knitted scarf from the heat register where it had been drying overnight.

Coats checked, buttons realigned, gloves and mittens tightened and boots double knotted, and lastly a hat for each head. George leads the way, taking the first step into the freshly fallen snow. It crunches under his feet as the rest of the clan makes their way out of the house.

Richie bounces with glee and Mary nearly falls out of Bucky's grip in her state of wonderment, trying to grab the snow from the railing. The steps are covered, almost to Richie's knee, but a path is quickly made, and once they're on the sidewalk, Bucky lets them loose.

They seem entirely unsure at first - as if they were disturbing a moment of full tranquility. But the moment quickly passes when a handful of snow is thrown. And then eager shrieks and screams give way.

From there, the neighborhood seems to awaken. Stumbling out into the remnants of the blizzard with curious expressions and amazement. The kids all run off in different directions. A snowball fight ensues by the corner, Ruthie seems to have traveled off to make snow angels away from the chaos. Some of them are trying to slide down the back of snow-covered cars to surprisingly good results.

He watches from the sidewalk, shoveling a path with a languid pace. No need to rush, the streets wouldn't be cleared for a day, if not longer. For now, it was a true winter wonderland.

Mary wanders back over to his side. Cherub cheeks have gone red, with a bright nose to match. He can't help the smile that bubbles up at the sight of her. So, he gets down at her level and lets her nuzzle her face into the shirt under his opened wool coat.

A snowman, small and modest, is done up at the bottom of the stairs, just beyond the sidewalk. In perfect view of a certain window. They convince him to give up his hat, and he does. Forgoing the provided warmth for their delight. 

They all seem quite proud of their work, scattering off shortly after, joining in on the pulled sled race at the end of the street. 

Bucky surveys the scene, catching a glimpse of each child happily lost in the bliss of winter snow. Slowly, he turns, following the wisp of breath caught in the air. And then he lands on you.

Staring out the bedroom window, you give a little wave. And with a rather foolish grin on his face, he waves back. You're covering your mouth with your hand, an amused look playing in your eyes. He wants to walk back inside, swoop you into his arms and make you startle with the chill of his lips. But a fat glob of snow is hurled at the back of his head.

Frozen ice drips down his neck and seeps into his coat, he startles with a rough and undignified gasp. Chasing after the brave boy who had dared to throw it. Launching over the drifts, he catches George by the waist and hauls him over his back with screams of protest.

When the sun is high in the sky, they make their way back inside. Some protesting, some grateful (him, mostly). You greet them with a kiss as you pull each wet hat off their head. Pressing painted lips to rosy cheeks. He gets the longest, of course. Cupping that beautiful curve of stomach resting between you as you rustle his untamed trusses, damp from the snow.

"Couldn't even warn a fella," he accuses lightly, tapping the tip of your nose with a cold finger.

You give a little pout, your eyes sparkle, "And here I thought my husband could handle the savage marauders."

His hands settle on your hips, swaying lightly in the entryway as the kids deposit their coats and boots by the fireplace.

"They're ruthless, darlin'. Absolutely ruthless."

As if to further his point, Richie comes running over with a roar. His hands and face are freezing as they slam into Bucky's chest. He can't help the gasp of air that catches in his throat. You smile down at him before sweeping the four-year-old to the kitchen table where you have a spread awaiting them. 

And, oh yes, _coffee_. 

You patiently listen to each story, of glorious adventures in the snow. Chiding lightly, reprimanding here, swiping a napkin over sticky fingers and stained lips there. You move with a grace and ease that he'll never achieve. And with that glorious bump impeding your movement to boot!

Bucky's content to just watch the scene play out. Of two children reeling over a full day off from school with a seemingly endless bounty of opportunities awaiting them outside the door. You catch his gaze across the table.

As much as he would have loved to stay in that heavenly bed with you all morning, knowing you got a small reprieve from the usual madness is enough to make Bucky feel truly content. He nurses his mug of steaming hot brew, holding your stare. Your eyes glisten with something sweet. 

And later, when the kids are rushing back outside and he's got you well and truly wrapped up in his arms, he preens. Not a bad way to start the day, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on my [Tumblr](https://ussgallifreyfics.tumblr.com).


End file.
